Prior to the Ocean
by Ekoaleko
Summary: Dead is not a fifteen minute gig. Dead is not a part time job. Dead is not something that can stand up, sit down, and continue down the road. Dead is forever, and dead never ends. But this isn't death... Lumina's POV.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Oh boy. Another fanfiction. I'm sorry. But this one just came to me while I was procrastinating hmwk… for some reason I've taken an unusual liking towards Lumina lately. Call this a line between Her Name In Blood and A Kardian Tale— minus horror and humour. (Well, there'll be some of that, if you have the weird urge to laugh at everything.) Anyway, I have nothing more to say.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harvest Moon.

Prior to the Ocean

_The waves… they roll so tenderly across my feet… caressing my skin with short velvet pecks. Wandering rays of sunlight have permeated its deep blue, yet it remains as full and lively as ever. The ethereal build in its gentle aura is so comforting, and sound. It evolves into smaller dips to larger dips; sometimes the pace is quick and at times languid… yet in the end it all ends where it starts and starts where it ends. Yet, it never ends… but… does it ever start…? It's beautiful._

_The flow melds into the marine sand beneath me, pulling in and crumbling away… people often like to compare things to waves, whether to friends or family or love… they call them many things, but I… I just like to call them waves… _

They're like ocean messengers… aren't they? Sometimes I see the currents carrying bottled messages on the shore… and sometimes they leave shells in their wake. I see the coiled conches and twisting coral by the shoreline, but as soon as the beautiful bottom-dwelling fragments come, they depart… the ocean floods in and sweeps them away with one elephantine movement. I dare not blink, for I'll forget they're there… one day, I'd like the shells to remain on the sand. I'd like them to be there, and coexist with the shore… I wish the ocean could realize harmony…

_Yes, ocean… waves come from somewhere, too. All I know is that there's a vast ocean out there, and that's where waves originate… the rest, I don't know. I've never been one to research. I just think, sometimes it's better off not knowing… the Earth is prettier before tainted by truth. I suppose tainted is a hard word, so should I not use… infected? _

_Again, aqua's purity is quelled by my endless thoughts. Will I ever stop prejudicing my surroundings? For some reason, I don't want to know how it all began, or how anything came to be yet I am so… curious. Perhaps one day, I'll find out… the easy way… _

_But for now, I'll watch the ocean current and think. _

I pulled my ankles back from where I sat, the feeling of the waves brushing against them disappearing. I dusted the light grains of sand off my back and thighs as I rose slowly, pulling on my shawl as it threatened to slide off my shoulders.

The air had chilled, and the sun has set… I took one breathtaking glance at the oranging horizon before taking off down the grassy trail, shoes held in one hand. My wet feet thudded as I hurried through the landscape, the exposed flesh of my slender arms and legs brimming with the raw, crisp air.

Soon, I arrived in view of the reassuring streetlights surrounding the mansion. I let out a breath as my eyes scanned the dark, lightless windows. It appeared my grandmother Romana and Sebastian, our butler, was yet to discover my empty presence.

But as these amber orbs flickered to catch the dim, but visible yellow aura that shone through the windows, my chest clenched. _They're awake. _

Now running, I panted as I touched the wide threshold of the mansion's entrance. I placed one hand on the handle and I slipped inside as quietly and unnoticeably as I could, shutting the door in turtle-speed with my breath held.

"Lumina; there you are…"

I jumped at the sound of my voice, trying to disguise my exhalation, head gyrating until it landed on the speaker.

"Sebastian," I addressed as calmly as I could. There was nothing to do now but wait for him to berate and interrogate me. I inwardly braced myself.

"You're just in time, Miss…" Yet he did nothing of the sort. He took in the sight of me fully before looking into my eyes, his dripping with sorrow. "Just in time, indeed…"

I frowned in puzzlement. "What do you mean, Sebastian? Just in time for what?"

He placed one firm, finalizing hand on my shoulder. "I apologize for any bluntness, but Miss Romana has fallen terribly ill. She would like to speak with you— personally."

Nausea rose to my throat but I pushed it down, nodding wordlessly. He sidestepped to welcome my entrance to my grandmother's room, which laid unfurled directly in front of me.

_Do I really want to go inside? Do I dare? _

My face was masked with nothing but blankness. There wasn't a trace of emotion on it, yet inside I twisted and bent in fear and angst. Pleas churned through my stomach like a ship in the ocean storm. Like the ocean, not all can be calm…

"She is waiting for you, Miss Lumina."

I gave him a tentative nod. "Yes, I am going…" I concurred, only half-truthfully.

My heart beat faster with each passing wake of time as I drew nearer to the closed door. My hand furled against the golden knob, taking lungfuls of prolonged time. I finally closed my eyes and pushed, walking into the room steeply as if each step were weighed down by mounds of corrupted gravity.

"Grandma…?" I whispered, unsure of whether or not I would receive a response. My legs took me through the room, yet my waist-under was completely numb. I wondered… if she was still alive… and hollowness devoured my body.

"Grandma?" I said again, a bit louder this time. I arrived at the foot of her bed, where a still lump was covered by a sheet of a blanket. I blinked tears as she remained silent, weak in the knees as I shuffled to her side. "P-please respond…?"

A soft gurgle sounded from under her, and I leaned in and pull the blanket back impulsively. My breath stopped as I realized what I have done, and I mentally screamed for myself not to look— but it was too late.

Masked behind her face were gentle wisps of breath, and soft snores that enervated the open air. So she was asleep… I am glad. Letting my lungs flow freely now, I turned to go, but then halted as I reached the middle of the room. I stepped back hastily, covering her face with the blanket with a shaky hand. I turned again but this time I didn't go back.

I reached the door and a single tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. Though the worry has shed greatly from me, I still cannot help but… fear.

I gave Sebastian an acknowledging nod as I left the room. His eyes were wide with enquiry with an equally apprehensive look on his face. The nod signified that she was alive— and a small weight felt as if it had been lifted off my chest as his old features relaxed.

Unable to bear the tension, I whispered a small goodnight before veering up to my room, promising not to think of anything… just the soft ocean waves. That was it; nothing else mattered… nothing.

"Miss Lumina?"

I stopped halfway up the stairs. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"I am fine."

I reached the top landing and the envisioned ocean waves that ebb in and out of the shore, the pristine caricature, the seamless tide of the waters— the images shattered in my head.

All is not okay.

**xoxo**

The next morning, I was awakened by a bird, its song drilling through the fabric of my window. I sat up immediately in bed, recalling the events from the night before. Soon my thoughts slipped out from under me, and I averted my attention to the bird's song. It continued to whistle and chirp in a high treble, appearing not to have noticed me.

I don't understand. The young animal had no one to sing to; no one to listen. Why does it continue? What is the point, if there is no one to witness anything?

I pulled myself away from the window and brought my feet to the ground, still listening to its high-pitched song. For some reason, it made me feel nostalgic, and sad… for some reason, it brought churning emotion to my stomach, yet I yearned to listen…

I got dressed and left my room in a hurry, shutting the door a little too loudly. Almost immediately my eyes caught Sebastian's room as my feet touched the main ground and my instincts reeled me towards the door. I wasn't ready for a talk. I didn't want to think about anything. I wanted it all to slip away, right underneath my feet… I wanted to forget.

At the same time the door to his room opened, I stepped outside the mansion. The sun shone immensely onto me, myself being surprised at how suddenly hot I'd become. It was as if I hadn't gone out in days. But this was just too much…

My instincts started kicking in, and I suddenly _really _wanted to go look at the waves. I slipped off my green shawl and folded it up neatly before placing it on the side of the fountain, where I could collect it later. Then I fast-walked all the way to the beach, not passing a single townsperson on my way.

Not too long later, I arrived at the beach venue. I let out a relieved breath as I paced all the way to the shoreline, taking off my shoes and flinging them loosely into the pits in the sand on my way. The instant my bare feet felt the icy, usual sensation of the waves, they prickled momentarily and then relaxed.

It was funny how such a silly thing calmed me so well. I honestly would be lost without the waves, as ludicrous as it sounds… but as I'd noted before: waves can be related to many, many things. I can't pinpoint what it is to me… but it's something. It has to be. And it's something important.

My head turned for the first time as my vision fell instantly upon another presence standing just a few metres away from me. Cody. My face turned bright red as I scrambled to collect my shoes and get up off the ground automatically, when all he did was watch me.

"I-I'm sorry," I murmured hurriedly, with a slight bow of my head. "I was just stressed, and I wanted to get out, I had no idea you were here… "

He remained silent until finally he muttered, "Why are you apologizing?"

At this, I was stricken. No one had ever asked me why I apologized… it was just something I did very often. More often than I should, perhaps, but… was a reason actually required?

"…It's alright," Cody grunted into the unwilling silence, and I immediately felt grateful for not having to break the ice. To my surprise he turned and headed back towards the village.

"Where are you going?" I called to him.

"Home," he said shortly.

I realized Cody was one of few words, yet… I've always pondered what laid beyond the giant's mask. Cody was more than meets the eye— and what meets the eye is much enough. Sometimes, I wonder what kind of pain _he _endures. I realized this was none of my business but… some things I couldn't help but dwell upon.

I turned back to face the ocean, kicking off my shoes inelegantly once more. Grandma Romana had always reprimanded me until I was absolutely prim, proper and ladylike… I had gotten used to it, and now it was just _part _of me. But the more "mature" she made me act, the more complicated everything kept getting… I don't understand anything anymore. Am I really, truly mature now? Has all the acting melded into me?

"I don't know anymore," I whispered to the waves. They beckon to me like angels in the light, yet it sometimes… frustrates me. The ocean, it torments me. It calls to me, it coaxes me, yet it doesn't come any closer. Many, many times each day its waves pull in and touch me, but all they do is end up pulling back.

Was that my relation with the ocean? Was I like the waves, pulling in only to be pushed back?

No… nothing pushed the waves back. They pulled back on their own will.

_Will_… the instant image of my grandmother leapt to my eyes and I burst into sad, salty tears. I was glad Cody had left, for now I was left all alone… My cries were so pitiful and horrid. They were scathing to listen to, yet alone indulge. The bitter eyedrops drizzled upon my cheeks and fell into the waters.

Maybe the waves were like friends. I could cry on them… but this was different in the end, wasn't it? There was no returning reassurance.

I couldn't find out anything. It was entirely frustrating, and it… it made me cry even harder. By now hard sobs had racked my entire body, from head to toe, and I collapsed onto my back. Sand elapses into my hair but I ignored it. My eyes fixated endlessly on the cerulean hue in front of me, and it was all that mattered… all I'll think about… because after all, nothing mattered… nothing matters…

"I will give the whole word, and the entire ocean to grant you life, Grandmother," I whispered to just the ocean. I reached out and touched it. It squeezed my hand once… and pulled back in a short interval.

It pulls back… again…

**xoxo**

A few hours later, I air-dried my feet and pulled my shoes back on. Then I slumped back to town, never looking so dishevelled before. My hair was a sandy, frizzy, tangled auburn mess and my yellow headband was lopsided and dirty. My clothes were full of wrinkles and loose threads, also covered in mounds of sand.

I saw Dr. Hardy as I appeared in the entrance of the mansion and was immediately struck by emotions. If the doctor was here, it either meant my grandmother was dead or alive… no, no, that was a terrible hypothesis. Either it meant she was sick, or dead… no, this was even worse…

I quickened my pace to tail after him, careful not to be seen. A lone girl running down the cobblestone streets after a doctor was a suspicious sight, I realize, even if she is heading towards her own house.

From the distance, I watched as he knocks on the door tartly. Sebastian opened it after the second knock, looking worn out, older-looking and just plain awful. Guilt strikes me; have I caused that sort of grief, along with my grandmother's illness…?

Now of all times was not one to start thinking up conspiracies. I ran to the front door and paused at the fountain, impatiently groping it for my shawl. My face fell as I realized it was gone… perhaps Sebastian took it in? I doubted it; he too looked as if he hadn't seen daylight in years…

I swung the door open and step inside, voices heard from the room next over. I raced in without warning and as soon as my feet hit the ground I spoke.

"Is my grandmother okay?!" What comes out is fast, frantic, and practically slurred. "Please tell me she's okay, doctor!"

Dr. Hardy looks at me seriously under his thin eyebrows. "Lumina…" he says in a quiet, stalled voice.

My heart froze. Hesitation… meant… n-no… That instant, my head began to spin, and I stumbled back foolishly. I was not on the urge of passing out, yet I felt entirely dizzy… Dr. Hardy's figure blurs and I can hear myself crying out over his voice.

He touched my arm but I slapped his away blatantly, much to his surprise. Manners were presently the least of my worries— _my grandma is dead. _There was note one part of that I couldn't comprehend. Dead is not a fifteen-minute-gig. Dead is not a part-time job. Dead is not something that can stand up, sit down, and continue down the road. Dead is _forever_, and dead never ends.

For some reason, that sounded like the ocean…

I wanted to slap myself. I dare think of water in a situation like this? Just as my focusness swam to me, Dr. Hardy started to yell. I let out a small gasp as he prods roughly into my forearm, a vein throbbing in his horror-wretched face.

"ROMANA IS ALIVE!" he shouted more than coherently.

At the same time, the room fell silent.

I'd never heard a more absolutely satisfactory three words.

"…She has fallen into a coma."

Nor a more daunting six.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for those who reviewed :) Hopefully you won't mind a wickedly short chapter. But don't worry, there won't be too many of these...

Prior to the Ocean

My eyes burst open the instant I heard loud, derisive knocking on my door. Instead of getting up and opening it, like I normally would, I merely rolled over in bed. The knocking didn't cease once, until minutes later. The person at the other side dejectedly stepped away from the door, and I listened as they headed back down the stairs, a door shutting behind them.

What happened last night was not something for me to take for granted. It was not something I could forget, and it would haunt me each night… limitlessly. A coma was almost as bad as a death… either way, my grandmother is gone. I know her soul is here, I know her body is here… but she is gone.

I crept out of my room silently, noting the closed door to Sebastian's room. I wondered if grandmother's position has fazed him as greatly as it had me. Yet, I don't believe that can be possible. Because no matter what I say… words mean nothing.

My face is stone, plain, and empty. What was I expected to do now?

Go look at the waves, of course. Like I always do…

I headed out of the mansion, and to my surprise my shawl was in the exact same position I had left it in the night before. It was folded exactly as well.

"Who did this?" I said softly, taking it and draping it around my shoulders. I continued down the path with my eyes stuck to the ground heavily.

Everything would be different. My grandmother was more than a person to me— she was my _family_. My one and only family in the village. And now…

_Please stop thinking. _

For the first time, I looked up, eyes widening at the sight I immediately took in. Fresh, green spring leaves that gave the wide-trunk trees a vivacious appeal, dewy, large pedals and long stems belonged to the gorgeous Moon Drop flowers askew among the lush scenery. The grass looked new and full and added perfect colouring to compliment the dirt. The sky was pure and a complete, absolute baby blue, its contour not visible from where I stood. Weeds and hindrances were also nowhere in sight, with the exception of stray debris scattered among abandoned corners. The spring sun lit up the entire path, and even the stone path looked a little better paved.

…Why wasn't I happy? Interested, in the least? This beauty… Earth's natural beauty… shouldn't I be astounded by it? Is it not as alluring as the ocean? It's not any different… is it?

Surroundings oblivious, I hurry down the path, and again no one is in sight. It's as if my grandmother's position has sent everyone inside, as if they were scared of some outdoor plague… did they even know, yet?

Gustafa, the traveling guitarist, appeared down the other end of the street. I automatically shot him a shy, polite smile and wave, and he shoots one back wholly. Then we both walk our opposite directions, my smile dropping the instant I turn away.

They didn't know…

Hoping for not a single more interruption, I hurry to get to the beckoning ocean. For now, it's a good thing. I don't want things to be different, just because of her… right now everything seems surreal. Everyone else acting upon the tragedy will only make reality press in more. Reality is the last thing I want to endure.

Again, I arrive at the dividing line between land and sea, gazing upon the vast bluish arena in awe. For some reason, I never bore watching the waves. It's the same thing, time after time, yet it is so… different, from anything else. I've never seen anything so big, or so mysterious; so peaceful and at the same time, so frightening. Not once have I watched the flow of the sea with lacklustre abandon… not once have I not been profound, each and every time it completely amazes me. Apart from the grass, the trees, the flowers, the soil… it dares to be different.

Then why must we remain all the same? Like cardboard cut outs, paper from a photocopier. Each human being has a different face, a different personality; different blood in their veins. Yet… we are so alike, in ways all too centred. Yet in the end, difference makes no existence… there is only… uniqueness.

I _want _to choose to be unique. I _want _to pretend to be different, but… I feel the same emotions, I desire the same desires, I greed for alike greed… no matter what, no matter how hard I try to dare to be different, I can't be. Because like I said… we are all the same.

It's comical and ridiculous but… I am jealous of the sea. So serene, as blue takes over blue when sin floats into its way. It's perpetually gorgeous, and majority overrules all differences… it is rebellious and dangerous, yet it knows how to be calm and calming. It strives for nothing, yet it receives… everything. Its waves connect to more waves, like saviors; like friends. When its sources are cut off, it regenerates, forever complete. It's so perfect, in ways more than one. If you think about, if _I _do, the ocean is all the things I won't ever be.

All the things I _can't _ever be.

"Is something the matter, Lumina?"

My head jerks in the other direction. Jack, the newest addition to Forget-Me-Not-Valley, was a farmer who was helping out at Takakura's farm in the north. I knew little about him, yet I felt like I could read his thoughts as I looked into his ardent brown eyes.

I brush back the urge to say a frank "Yes" and merely look back into his eyes earnestly. "I'm fine… just watching the waves." I gesture to behind me, as if he hadn't seen the ocean.

To my surprise, he walks up and sidles next to me, so close our breaths nearly meet.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he says softly.

I blush, thinking he's referring to me. As my gaze drifts over to him, I realize he's looking at the sea.

_ Desire the same desires, greed the same greed… lust the same lust. _

"Absolutely gorgeous," I whisper in reply to his implied query.

He looks at me and gives me a small smile, before looking back to the waves.

"Do you come here often?"

I suppressed a laugh, unsure if this was his idea of small-talk.

"Often is an understatement," I murmur vigilantly.

We remain silent as we continue to watch the dancing, brewing waves, and they rouse more thoughts. Every time, I discovered something new in comparison to the waves, whether it was about motion or scent or atmosphere… each time, it truly was absolutely gorgeous.

Another thought came to my head, this time about my grandma. Her kind but firm, wrinkled face embedded into my forehead and I shook my head tentatively.

"Is something the matter?" Jack asks, and again I shake my head.

"Just…" The words rose to my throat, but I didn't know how I could form the sentence. So I stopped it there; incompletely.

"It brings back memories, doesn't it?" Jack said, and for an instant I thought he was talking about my grandmother. I shot back, offended, but as I saw the thoughtful look on his face I quickly recovered. Not everything revolved around me.

"Bitter ones," I answer before I could stop myself.

He frowned, unsatisfied with this. "No sweet ones?" he prods.

I shrug vaguely and look down at leather of my shoes. It's soaked completely.

"Bitter ones," I repeat.

He's silent before finishing, "Bittersweet ones."

A trace of a smile appears on my lips. "Yeah."

And we watched without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I know I'm… like… three months late, but I got a sudden urge to write this. Thank you so much for the support, especially The Scarlet Sky, who has actually reviewed every flippin' story I've posted. You are the coolest. And though this author's note doesn't really fit the atmosphere of this chapter, I hope anyone reading this will like it. xxx.

Prior to the Ocean

I couldn't get over it.

That was the conclusion I had come to as I sat at the foot of my bed the next day. My pale skin shone from beneath me.

My throat felt blockaded and my breath felt tight in the mere thought of being in the proximity of my grandmother. It was just so different without hearing her loud trills each day, hearing her berate me as I played an improper B flat; as I recited sonatas to her on the keyboard… and, just, if life were a song, I'd be pressing the replay by now. Replay it right to the beginning, before any of this happened, before I felt the subduing pain in my abdomen. Of course, replaying meant, really, _replaying_… not even my fantasies have escapades.

Everything would change, faster than I thought.

But who would be assisting this change…? For some reason, I couldn't help but think of Jack. I think he was the only one who had ever just sat there and watched the waves with me. The waves, they have so much sentimental value to them… they mean so ridiculously much to me. And to have someone to just stand there and enjoy it fully at my side means the world to me.

I wanted to meet this farmer. I wanted to talk to him, to get to know him… somehow I felt so connected to him. But why would someone like him want to be friends with someone like me? I was sealed from reality like a glass wall, eternally suspended with my own thoughts. He was down-to-earth. He knew what it meant to accept the truth. But I… I'm above my grandmother's half-ticking heart and body, and I don't know how to feel. I still don't believe it's happening, and I still refuse to accept it.

I refuse… yet it oppresses me.

I pulled on an outfit and headed downstairs, counting my steps as I traveled down the coil of the staircase. When I reached the bottom landing, I expected to see Sebastian waiting for me in the middle of the room with an emotionless expression on his face. But he was nowhere to be seen. Fear thrummed up my chest… was I alone again?

_Why must you place all judgement on what you can and cannot see? _My skin is cool against my own prudence. _Is what you see taken for granted? If you blink, will it all disappear?_

I spot a note on the piano and approach it hesitantly. If I was so careless, I wouldn't be able to drink in the words well enough. This slip of paper could change my life.

Gulping, I take it in my hand. It's already unfolded, so I merely smooth out its inexistent creases and read it. It says, _Dearest Miss Lumina; I apologize for not making you a breakfast this morning. Please eat at the inn. Sebastian. _

A part of me is relieved, but a part of me is still afraid. Sebastian is not… like this. But if he wishes, I should make way to the—

I heard noises coming from one of the backrooms and immediately assumed he was in the kitchen, finishing something last minute. Forgetting my orders, I swept up to it and knocked once before opening the door, but to my surprise the room was bare. The sink was empty and all the dishes were unused.

Puzzled, I checked Sebastian's room, but it too remained soulless. Where could he be?

Stepping out, I was about to leave to follow his wishes when I heard noises coming from the centre room, also known as my grandmother's room.

_My grandmother's room._

Again, I receive that hammering sensation. I want to I rush up to the door and knock hard, on my first instinct. I want to throw it open and charge through the doorway. I want to press my face against the wood and scream, "_Sebastian_?"still knocking with one hand. "_Are you in there_?"

But I cannot. I can only take slow, breathtaking steps toward the door, and touch it lightly with my hand. Instead of raising my voice, I lean in and quietly say, "… Sebastian?"

I paused for a moment and was shocked when I heard forced, stifled sobs from inside. My heart began to crumble; another soul, broken…

"Miss L-Lumina?" He stutters… he cries. "What are you doing? I thought you were supposed to go to the inn!"

I can tell he's trying to sound demanding. I can tell he's trying to scare me, and drive me away from what I need to know. But I feel strong. "Do you feel alright?" I ask cautiously.

His ruffled voice told me, feigning liltingness, "Practically wonderful!" I begged to differ; his voice read high cadence but I knew something was wrong.

Why was he hiding this from me?

"What are you doing in there?" I asked, careful with my choice of words.

"Oh, you know!" He burst into a joyous, terrible laugh. "D-dusting. I'm cleaning. That's why I'm a butler, you know? To be your slave…"

My heart pinches, and I hate myself for pushing him. "Sebastian—" I paused.

We both pause. And for a second, there's a silence.

"…May I come in?"

I heard him jump and smash something, the silence shattering. "Oh, oh no!" he says loudly. "I mean, I wouldn't like to burden you with my cleaning, I am capable of doing this myself, for I wouldn't like to bring you any trouble, Miss Lumina…"

"Sebastian, you can start calling me just Lumina now, it's alright…"

"But Miss Lumina, I try to show respect, and I—" Another wicked crash pierced the air, this one making me cringe.

"Please, can you—" I stop again. I have to be brave. I have to face my fears. "I'm coming in, okay?" _Am I?_

I hear him collecting himself frantically from inside and bite on my lip. I give him some more time, but alas, I push open the door. When I look up, he is standing in the middle of the room looking petrified and awful.

If a coma can do this to him, then what can death…?

"Miss Lumina, I tell you: I'm merely dusting!" he protests, as if I have accused him.

I eye the formation of his arms. They are crossed— he is hiding something. "Sebastian, please…what are you holding behind your back?"

"Wh-what? Oh, Miss Lumina…"

There are always a few words that someone wished to say to someone else. There's always something like that. And mine would be, _Treat me as who I am_. He thinks I'm still a child, and that, I partly am. But who am I, past this exterior? I want him to think of me like he does an equal. I don't want him to say, 'Oh, Lumina' to me, like I am foolish. I want him to say my name solidly: "Lumina." I want him to be strong, for me.

So I tell him.

"Sebastian: _show me_."

He bubbles out a few more protests, but finally he brings his arms to his front. I approach him and take a small, dusty four-sided object out of his hand and gasp.

In my grasp was no more than a photo— an old, lost photo of my grandmother and Sebastian when they were young. Their arms were draped over each other and they appeared to be standing in a meadow of glimmering summer flowers. Their lips were formatted in perfect upward curves, genuine and beaming.

Comparing it to the clammy figure he was now, I was shocked. Could time do all this? Or did time only play a minor role…?

The butler took the photo before I could look at it a second longer, quickly brushing at it with the back of his fingers as if I had tainted it with my touch.

"This is…" I begin quietly, feeling my actions hurl at my stomach with pity. "I'm sorry, Sebastian…"

"It is okay, Mi— Lumina." His completely life-absorbed face is far from okay. "I will… get over this."

"Oh…" I can't hold it in anymore. I step up and embrace him tightly, as if transferring my empathy to him. "You're not alone," I say bravely as he stumbles back in shock. "Sebastian, I'm here… I understand your loss. Sebastian… I get it."

I evoke a few more innermost words, ones I've shared with no one up to this point, and soon it's me crying into his arms. He gives occasional pats on the back, half-awkward and half-comforting.

"I miss her," I finally conclude, letting my tears run freely. "I know it's only been a few days, but I miss her so much… and just wait, in a few weeks' time, I'll have committed suicide."

At this, he pulled back— warmth evaporating into thin air. I want to reach out and take it back— but it's already gone. "M— Lumina, please don't speak like that."

I hadn't meant the suicide thing, but I knew where he was going. "Sebastian, please… look at her, she's practically dea—"

"I don't want to hear you talking like that, Miss Lumina." The sheer density in his tone, relatively more defiant than his ex-one, throws me off guard. "This is not death. Call it a temporary rest. Call it a life abeyance. It is not the gravity of the situation, but the gravity of its aftereffects. If you give up hope, all will be lost. The future does not depend on you. But how you take the future does."

I am speechless as he sets the photo back down on the mantelpiece. "Be hopeful… Lumina," he says quietly. Then he brushes past me, stopping when he touches the threshold. "Breakfast will be served shortly."

Then he departs, leaving me standing in his abandoned footsteps blankly, all alone with my thoughts.

_...Why am I always alone?_


End file.
